


Gold

by tayraystar



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayraystar/pseuds/tayraystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Red Templars take Inquisitor Talia Trevelyan captive. Back at Skyhold, Cullen and Solas work to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: This fic includes the effects of red lyrium(which Cullen has nothing to do with, don't worry), and some torture.

Nights in the Emerald Graves are long and dark. The trees, so tall they can touch the sky, block all light of the moon and the surrounding stars.

Inquisitor Talia Trevelyan stands watch over her camp as her companions sleep. Cassandra sleeps curled in on her side, her sword and shield never far from reach. Vivienne sleeps on her back, lips parted as she breathes, each heavy breath almost becoming a snore. Varric sleeps sitting up against a tree, chin to his chest, one hand placed gently on top of Bianca.

Talia watches them fondly, listening to their breathing, and to the sounds of the forest around them. The leaves above her move in a steady breeze, and a fennec scratches at the roots of a tree to her right. The embers of the fire snap and crackle as it dimly glows. They can't risk much more in such an open space. The Venatori are never far.

Her grip on the length of her greataxe tightens as she stands. The head of the axe glows slightly red with an enchantment, and it always whistles through the air whenever she swings it.

Talia walks the boundaries of their makeshift camp, her eyes heavy. They had spent the day killing giants near dragon territory, and even afterwards the words on the graves of the surrounding trees made her more exhausted than the fighting. She stares out into the darkness, the eerie quiet, and does not notice the shadowed movement behind her.

The cloaked figure has his hands around her mouth before she can react, a cloth held firmly against her nose, and she has no choice but to inhale the heady fumes as she attempts to make a noise, any noise, to wake her sleeping companions.

Her axe drops to the ground. She stops her struggles. Her eyes close.

~~~

Cassandra is the first to wake as sunlight filters through the gaps in the trees. She sits up, bleary-eyed as she takes in the brightened morning and the cold embers of the fire. The Inquisitor was supposed to wake her hours before for her watch shift. Where is she?

She stands, shield on her arm and sword gripped firmly in her hand as she investigates. The Inquisitor's axe is the only thing she finds, lying a few feet away from the camp. Cassandra sheathes her sword to pick it up, returning to the others.

"Varric! Vivienne! Wake up!" She bangs the side of the axe against her shield, and the two others wake quickly.

"What's all that racket, Seeker?"

"Honestly, Cassandra dear, if you needed me awake all you had to do was shake me."

"Get up! The Inquisitor is gone. I fear she has been taken. We may search, though I fear she may be long gone by now. We need to get back to an Inquisition camp and send word back to Skyhold immediately."

"Oh, shit."

~~~

Talia wakes slowly, the echos of her dreams pulling at her, refusing to release. She is no Mage, yet the Mark on her hand gives her a stronger connection to the world of dreams than any other without magic. Though her current dreams are murky, clouded by fear and a sense of wrong. This is not how it's supposed to be. This is never how it's supposed to be.

"She is awake." A male voice booms in the silence, words cracking as if being chipped from stone, said with a throat raw with apparent disuse.

Talia struggles to open her eyes, and when she tries to lift her arm it is jerked back down, shackled at her wrist. She squints out to her surroundings, firelight from a torch flickering to her left, lighting up the stone walls of a cave. She lies on a flat piece of stone, carved out of the wall, and when her vision clears she sees the faces of corrupted Templars staring down at her.

Their skin is raw and wrecked, splitting in places to allow growths of red crystal, the hum of the red lyrium burning into their flesh and twisting their minds. Their eyes, the former colours of which are now gone, replaced with an eerie red glow, stare at her in hatred and fury.

"Why--" her tongue is heavy in her mouth, unwilling to shape the air and form the words.

"You do not speak. The Elder One demands. He shall receive."

"He shall receive." The words of the other Red Templars are said in harmony, voices echoing in the cave. The one who first spoke, the apparent leader of the corrupted and the one most affected by the song of the red, looms over her, sneering, hating.

"You hold the Mark of a thief. You carry the name of a liar. The Elder One demands. He shall receive."

"He shall receive." They say it like a prayer, calling out to their leader, who ignores them completely to stare at the Anchor in her hand. It glows, green like burning, her skin tingling.

Talia glares at her captor, fisting her hands to hide the glow, though the green leaks through her clenched fingers. "You will get nothing from me."

The Red Templar smiles, revealing teeth of crystal, jagged and broken between his lips.

"You need not speak, for He only demands your pain, and your will."

He reaches out a hand, fingers encased in red, shaped as claws and sharp as broken glass. The tip presses against the exposed skin of her arm. He pushes down, breaking skin, blood redder than the lyrium flooding to the surface.

Talia closes her eyes. She refuses to scream.

~~~

They throw her, bleeding but silent, into a cage of iron, the door screeching as it's closed behind her. She lands heavily, skin stretching painfully, blood running freely to drip on the stone beneath her.

Red lyrium, sprouting from the wall in front of her, sings to her at the back of her mind, a quiet whisper, tendrils reaching for her, beckoning. She ignores them, crawling away from the crystal, pressing her back to the cold bars of the opposite side.

A Templar stands at the cage door, unnaturally still and silent, empty eyes watching her closely. They had removed her armour as she slept, and what had remained of her underclothes now hangs in tatters against her skin. She carefully pulls the rest of the ruined fabric off her shoulders, and uses it for rags, bandaging up the worst of her cuts on her arms and stomach. The cuts are small and not deep, made for pain and not to kill. The worst of the bleeding is over.

She sits, shirtless and shivering, knees brought up to her chin and arms tucked tightly against her exposed chest. Some of the blood on her arm is beginning to dry, almost as dark a brown as her skin, and she picks at it, watching the Templar out of the corner of her eye. He does not move. He does not breathe. He only stands, and watches. Unwavering.

Talia Trevelyan begins to wait.

Though her heart still hammers in her chest, the waiting is dull, and she can spot no weakness in the bars around her. The Red Templar still does not move. She knows if she were to try and fight him, unarmoured and without a weapon, she would fail. The Red Templars possess unnatural strength from the lyrium in their veins, and she would be no match, as disadvantaged as she is. 

 

Still she waits, and the time blurs, the heated song of the red lyrium's call a constant in her mind.

She is taken before the Templars often, and they reopen her wounds with their crystal claws, and the red lyrium sings it's sweet song each time she returns to the cell, whispering her name, offering her comfort. The crystal grows towards her each night, it's unnatural warmth filling the air, the song in her mind getting louder.

For once in her life, she wishes for the skill of magic, so she could call fire to her fingertips without the need of a sword or a dagger. Though her sister was born with magic, she was not. The closest thing she has is the Anchor, and it still glows in her clenched fist, it's only power to manipulate weaknesses in the Veil. Completely useless here, though the cause of its constant glow remains a mystery.

She studies the Mark, feels it's heat in her palm, familiar now so it no longer hurts. The glow in the air is red, and yet the Mark is green, green like grass, green like the eyes of her father. The green is different from the red, the green is calm, the green is heavy, while the red is sharp and light, dancing across her skin. How strange it is, this scar on her hand, able to reach out and touch the Fade itself. Anchor. What a strange name. An Anchor of the Fade.

 

The Anchor glows, the crystal sings, and Talia bleeds.

She does not know how long it has been. The song of the red has become familiar now. She can almost touch the whispers, though whenever she tries to reach, the green glows brighter, keeping her away. Green. Such a troublesome colour.

She's much begun to prefer the red.

~~~

Though the moon hangs high in the sky over Skyhold, the castle is alive with movement, people rushing around, grave news on their lips.

The Inquisitor is gone. Taken in the night. And it has been so long.

Solas is the only one who sleeps, mind stretched through the Fade, conversing with spirits and exploring as far as he can reach, searching, questioning.

He has yet to find an answer.

Night bleeds in to day, then day back into night, and yet he still looks, determined, never wavering. As the Fade reflects the world, he does not know where to look, and the spirits he asks are of little help.

Wherever the Inquisitor currently sleeps, he can not find her.

He opens his eyes to see Commander Cullen sitting against the painted wall, knees drawn to his chest, head in his hands. The Inquisitor's absence is felt most keenly by he, as Solas understands the two of them had grown close.

Cullen looks up to meet his eyes. "Anything?"

Solas sighs in frustration. "Nothing. There is no sign of her dreams in the Fade. She is either not sleeping, which is unlikely given the amount of time that has passed, or she is somehow being kept hidden, her dreams being blocked or weakened."

Cullen nods. "Thank you for trying, Solas." He pulls himself to his feet, steps heavy as he begins to leave. "I must oversee the search parties."

"I will keep trying, Commander. You have my word."

~~~

Talia feels so tired.

The Templars have to drag her back to her cell, and their conversation flows right over her head as they throw her to the ground and close the gate behind her. The lyrium sings at her return, the crystal taking up much of the space in the cage, and the Anchor's glow is painful as it bathes her in green.

Oh, how she just wants to sleep. But the red sings ever louder, and the green burns ever hotter, and her cuts now no longer heal, her body worn and torn and so, so heavy.

She closes her eyes, the song sweet in her head, but the green burns through and glows behind her eyelids. She must sleep. She must sleep. She must...

The world swirls before her, and the green glows brighter, and the darkness parts to reveal dripping greys and curling silvers.

~~~

Solas' eyes fly open. He's found her.

~~~

The cave is situated underneath an overhang, opening out into a river. Commander Cullen shouts the Inquisition's forces forward, and they storm the cave, Red Templars falling to their blades. Cullen fights with his fury, sword singing as it slashes, his heart racing.

She's been gone for so long. Who knows what they've done to her. Solas said something was wrong, very wrong, and Cullen's heart aches at the thought. She has to be alright. She must be. He will not let anything less be true.

He fights through the cave system, crystal shattering under his blade, the red lyrium calling to him even as he destroys it. His headache is worse here, but he will not falter until she is found. Her safety is more important than his annoyances.

The end of the cave is empty save for one more Red Templar, and Cullen cuts him down, his sword going straight through his chest. Behind the Templar is a cage, lyrium crystals growing in abundance, and underneath it all...

Talia lies on the stone, lips twisted in a grimace of pain, hand outstretched towards him. He opens the cage (and it's not even locked, why did they not need to lock it?) and he goes to her, ignoring the singing of the lyrium around him.

She stares up at him, her dark skin cut and broken, her blue eyes glassy, the Anchor in her outstretched hand glowing brilliantly green.

"Talia. I'm here. You're safe now."

He pulls her into his arms, and she feels so small and fragile, and she smiles up at him almost reverently as she whispers, "Gold."

The Anchor pulses, and her eyes close, and she slumps completely against his chest.

~~~

Gold invades her dreams of red and green, and slowly, the red begins to bleed away, the burning of the green becoming a comforting warmth, and she embraces the feeling of safety the gold brings with it.

She becomes aware of moving, though she can't bring herself to open her eyes. There are voices floating around her, though these are soft and comforting, unlike the scratching of the crystal tongues in their crystal mouths. One voice is constantly there, calling to her, surrounded by wisps of gold.

Something touches her chest, something cold that causes pain, and Talia wants to cry out but she doesn't. She will not scream. They will not make her scream. But they are gone, and the red is gone, and she no longer has to hold back her sounds.

She does anyway. These people do not need to know her pain, either.

~~~

Talia wakes to the familiar sight of sunlight shining through coloured glass.

She blinks, squinting, trying to lift her arm to shield her eyes. The movement is followed by a million pricks of sharp pain, and she inhales sharply, her arm again going to rest at her side.

Beside her, Cullen jerks his head up, eyes widening with relief as he spots her open eyes. "Talia."

Talia turns her head to meet his eyes, and her whole face lights up, lips curling into a wide smile. "Cu--" she cuts off to cough, her throat raw. Cullen grabs a glass of water and brings it to her lips, and she drinks gratefully, gulping the cool liquid greedily. He pulls the glass away before she can finish it, setting it aside. He leans over her, his hand reaching down to cup her face.

"How do you feel?"

Talia coughs a laugh. "Just peachy."

He gives her a small smile, thumb stroking her cheek. "You had us so worried, Talia. We didn't know where you were. Do you remember much of what happened?"

Talia frowns. "Not... much. I remember the Templars, and the singing, and... the green..." Talia's frown deepens. "The Anchor."

Cullen watches her face as her expression turns to one of deep thought, and he can not resist leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Nevermind what happened for now, I shouldn't have asked. I'm just... Very glad you are safe."

Talia smiles up at him, eyes soft. "My knight in shining golden armour. I'm very glad you came for me, Cullen."

"We have Solas to thank for finding you."

"And I'll be sure to thank him, next time I see him. For now, let me thank you." Her expression turns sour. "You came just in time. I could feel the lyrium, it was horrible. It was singing to me, you know, I could always hear it. But even as it grew stronger, something held it off. I think the Anchor protected me. Kept the red lyrium from infecting my mind." She lifts her left hand, ignoring the pain of the movement, to see the Anchor no longer glowing. "I wonder how...?"

"I'm sure we can figure that out later. For now, now that you're okay, you need your rest. And I must tell the others that you awoke." Cullen goes to stand, but her hand reaches out to grab his arm.

"Please stay, Cullen. Please." He holds her gaze, seeing the almost hidden element of fear in her eyes, her usual mask of confidence shattered in the wake of such extremes, revealing an almost childlike weakness of being left alone. "I need someone here."

And Cullen just smiles, accepting, gently placing his hand on top of hers. "Of course."

She gazes up at him, openly adoring, and despite the events leading up to here, Cullen's cheeks still redden slightly under her gaze.

"Thank you."

It's not enough, but for now, it's all she can say.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> Hopefully I will expand on Talia and Cullen in the future, maybe write a fic that shows more of Talia as a person, and her growing love for Cullen. I am aware that this fic is somewhat vague about personal details. I'd love for you to know more about my Inquisitor, so... fingers crossed!


End file.
